


talking roughly the truth

by catteo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, apparently, how AU can I get?, kara is always bisexual in my fic, mention of Grant Ward, so you just write your own, sometimes what you want isn't something canon will ever provide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Ward is a mercenary, and his ways of getting intel are a little unorthodox. But he's one of the best there is. Only problem is that he's almost certainly met his match. And she works with his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	talking roughly the truth

Thomas prides himself on the fact that he has his approach down to a fine art these days. It used to be that he'd have to make a concerted effort -- blowing a hole in a wall or scaling the side of a fifty story building to get what he needed -- but now he just goes into a bar or a club and leaves with daddy's little princess. He sometimes wonders why he bothered doing it any other way.

 

 

 

It's surprising, really, the number of corporate evildoers who dote on their daughters, making sure that they've got access to anything and everything that they need no matter the time of day. It was almost an accident the first time, Thomas prowling a strange apartment at 3am -- a pretty blonde asleep in the bed he just left -- and borrowing a laptop to check that he'd been paid for the latest job. He knew who she was, of course. It wasn't an actual coincidence that he'd ended up in her bed, but he hadn't anticipated that it would be anything other than an entertaining 'fuck you' to the guy who set attack dogs on him. However, what Thomas wasn't expecting was that a dozen key strokes would get him access to her father's network, and the data he'd been trying to get his hands on for a week. Thomas never looked back.

 

 

 

Get the girl; get the intel; get out. It's pretty much Thomas's mantra. He doesn't dwell on the fact that he's turning into a person that he doesn't really like all that much. The money's great, the risks are minimal with his new approach and, hey, a mercenary needs to make a living. It's not as though the Ward name's really good for a lot else nowadays. He occasionally wonders if Grant would approve of his new methods. Probably not. Grant's always been a fan of the more dangerous approach and Thomas secretly thinks he's got a bit of a savior complex. Thomas has seen Grant's scars though, evidence of sacrifices made that are tattooed on his skin. Thomas isn't really keen to have his skin looking like it belongs on a torture victim. He's fairly certain that it'll prove problematic with the ladies.

 

 

 

Thomas nods to the doorman, ducking inside the bar where his new target is known to go on a Friday night. He scans the room, quick and efficient. His mark is sitting in the corner, wearing a scrap of a dress that barely covers her ass, tapping her fingernails against the side of a glass containing some lurid green drink. Thomas can almost taste the sickly sweet liqueur on his tongue and he has to swallow down a sudden surge of nausea. He undoes another button on his shirt and starts heading in the girl's direction. He's about a dozen steps away when a warm arm brushes against his, the blur of a smile flashing past as he stumbles to one side. By the time he steadies himself and looks up there's a stunning brunette depositing what looks like a mojito in front of the blonde he's supposed to be taking home. The brunette flicks him a measuring look as she places a hand on the other woman’s shoulder, and he knows that he's been made. It’s a disconcerting feeling, especially since he hasn't a clue who she is.

 

 

 

One thing Thomas does know is that she’s stunning, the woman assessing him from beneath her eyelashes, the oblivious blonde chattering on unnoticed. Olive skin gleams in the soft light of the club and tight denim encases legs that go on for days. Thomas finds himself wishing that he wasn't on a job and that this woman that he can’t take his eyes off was the one he'd be taking home. He can pinpoint the exact instant that she notices that he's still staring as her gaze rests on him just a little too long. Thomas knows that it’s now or never if he’s going to make his move. He suspects that he may have left it a little too long as he notices his mark sliding her hand up a denim-clad thigh as he starts making his way over to them. Still, there’s nothing he likes more than a challenge.

 

 

 

Thomas tries every trick that he can think of. He offers to buy the women a drink, a bottle of something expensive; promises to give them a trip on his private jet -- not that he has a private jet, but he knows a few guys that owe him favors -- but nothing works. He's at a complete loss, a worryingly unfamiliar sensation, since none of his research had indicated that he’d be the one least likely to take the mark home. He gets a wry sense of amusement from the realization that people still have the ability to surprise him. In amongst the offers and polite rebuttals he learns that the brunette's name is Kara and, frankly, it's the most important piece of information he's learned in weeks.

 

 

 

He's on his way back from the bathroom when Kara finally confronts him. It's really more like an assault than anything else, an efficient blow to his solar plexus followed up with an arm twisted uncomfortably up behind him. She hisses a challenge in his ear, something about backing down letting the best woman win, but her voice is low and rich and it’s bright white electricity dancing on his skin. All Thomas can really manage to focus on is the heat of her body, pressed up against him, and the way that she smells -- vanilla and caramel -- before he finds himself alone with only his wounded pride for company. By the time he’s composed himself enough to get back to the bar they're both gone. It's the first time in months that he's headed home alone.

 

 

 

Thomas is pretty sure he dreams about her, waking in a tangle of sheets with his skin on fire and a raging hard-on that he deals to with swift, efficient strokes, before taking a long cold shower. He wonders if he'll find Kara again. Starts plotting ever more elaborate schemes to track her down. Turns out, though, it's not that hard after all. Thomas opens the door of his apartment, heading out to get a coffee, and Kara's there, wearing that same challenging smile, leaning against a lamp post.

 

 

 

"Hey there, Thomas." She says it with a glint in her eye and he's sure that he never told her his name.

 

 

 

"How do you know where I live?" It seems more important than the name thing. After all, nobody ever got stabbed in their sleep because another merc knew their name. Their home address, though, that's a little more concerning.

 

 

 

"Your brother gave it to me. Told me I should throw you a bone after what happened last night. Personally, I think you should use it as motivation to up your game. You're really getting lazy." Kara studies her fingernails as though there's something particularly fascinating caught under them.

 

 

 

"My brother needs to keep his nose out of it. I don't need your help." Thomas is suddenly beyond irritated with Grant and his meddling.

 

 

 

"Suit yourself. I told him you'd say no." Kara turns, as though she's about to leave. And Thomas is pissed, but he also wants to know how Kara knows his brother.

 

 

 

"And how, exactly, did you know that?" He tries to keep his tone neutral, but he’s genuinely intrigued.

 

 

 

"Because it's the same thing Grant would say. He's not good at knowing when someone else is more suited to the job at hand either." Kara says it with resignation in her voice, as though this is an point of view she's had to express many times before.

 

 

 

"Yeah, well, I'll get the intel another way." Thomas really doesn't want to get into a discussion about his brother right now.

 

 

 

"Sure you will. It'll be worthless by then though. Why don't you come and find me when you grow up enough to realize that you might actually need my help on this one." With that Kara offers him a mocking salute before getting into her car and racing away.

 

 

 

Thomas gets out his phone and dials Grant's number. Who the hell is Kara anyway?


End file.
